A Different Type of Christmas
by moviemaniac217
Summary: Rogue and Remy are getting ready for the holidays, but a certain Cajun seems interested in pushing too many of Rogue's buttons. Will he finally push her too far? What has she been hiding? Will she finally let him get close?


Rogue carefully hooked another bulb onto the Christmas tree and stepped back to survey her work. Not too shabby, but it still needed a few more. She reached out her gloved hand and pulled another ornament from the box and moved to another area.

"Nice," a rich voice commented from the doorway.

Rogue rolled her eyes and shot a half-hearted scowl over her shoulder. Gambit stood leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, with his signature smirk crossing his lips.

"Ah sure hope it's the tree you're talkin' about," she said and pulled a bag of tinsel from one of the boxes," Because there's nothin' else 'nice' in here."

"Not so sure about that chere," he said stealing up behind her and wrapping his arms around her stomach," There certainly is something nice in here… and the tree's not bad either."

She froze and whirled around in his grasp; placing her hands on his chest she shoved him into a nearby chair.

"Chere if you wanted to play, all you had to do was ask," he purred.

"You idiot, you almost touched my skin," she growled, nervously playing with the end of her scarf," Do you want to end up in a coma?"

"I didn't the last time we touched," he smirked," Or when we kissed."

"Stop it!" she yelled at him suddenly," Stop reminding me."

Gambit flinched at the heat in her voice, he knew he deserved it.

"I'm sorry Rogue," he said, holding his hands out in surrender," I didn't mean…"

"Just shut up Gambit," she muttered loud enough for him to hear, and returned to her job with less enthusiasm than before.

He watched her with solemn red on black eyes, trying to ignore the niggling bit of guilt he felt. This girl just seemed to draw out the worst in him, and it often seemed like his mouth had a mind of it's own whenever he was around her. She was still extremely sensitive on the subject of the 'Apocalypse Incident' and he knew darn well not to bring it up, but too late now. There was only one thing to do, run damage control.

"Chere," he said softly, only to stop as she spun on her heel and left the room. He sighed and rubbed his temples in frustration. This was not going to be easy.

Rogue stormed up to her room and slammed the door with all the force she could muster.

_Stupid swamp rat, _she thought, _He knows better than to try to touch me. And how dare he bring up that whole mess with Apocalypse! Ah can't believe he just did that. _

A few tears escaped from her eyes and traced long, slow patterns down her face. She swiped at them angrily, but more persisted. She stood up, intending to pace away her fury, but as soon as she did she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Pale skin and dead, gray eyes met hers in the mirror. She stopped and bit her lip.

Then for no reason, a sudden surge of anger raced through her and she punched the mirror, shattering it into an array of pieces. She leaned against her dresser for a moment, before the anger returned and she swept the assortment of bottles and picture frames to the floor. The sound of shattering glass was strangely comforting to her, but it wasn't enough. She grabbed her dresser and yanked it forward, before pressing her back against the wall and shoving it over with a powerful kick.

Trembling, she sank to the floor and her hand was jabbed by a piece of glass. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands, admiring the rainbow shine off its sharpest edge.

_Go ahead and do it, _one of her psyches whispered_, you know you want to. It'll help you feel better, relax you, and hey… if you were to cut too deep, you wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. _

_No Rogue, _Gambit's psyche spoke up softly_, don't do it cherie. Hurting yourself is never the answer. _

_What do you care?_ She asked his psyche bitterly_, I was doing fine until he reminded me of everything. Everything I've been trying to forget. _

A soft sigh filled her mind_, I'll admit it chere, when it comes to you my mouth seems to get ahead of my brain, and for some inexplicable reason I love pushing your buttons, love to get you mad. But I know he, I, didn't really mean anything by it. I am him, a piece of him, and I know that every time he hurts you, he feels terrible. He felt awful about lying to you when he kidnapped you and dragged you to Louisiana. He was angry when he came across those two jerks pushing you around. And he protected you from Jean-Luc. He really doesn't mean it._

_If he doesn't really mean it, _she asked as she rolled up her sleeve_, then why does he keep doing it?_

_I don't know_, the psyche sighed as it faded away, _I just don't know. _

She picked up the glass shard and stared at her arms. Long, angry gashes ran across the pale white skin, reminding her for an instant of a macabre candy cane. She found one of her older scars, took a deep breath, and dragged the sharp edge across the scab. It hurt, but at least she was finally feeling something other than the dull numbness she had been feeling all these months.

Soon all of the old scars were open and dripping steadily. She leaned back, partially enjoying the pain and partly cursing it. A gentle knock came at the door.

"Rogue, are y' in there?" Remy's voice asked.

"Go away," she yelled at him and stood up to wash the blood from her arms.

"C'mon Rogue, open the door. I want to talk to you."

"Ah said go away," she repeated," Ah don't want to hear anything you have to say."

"Chere…"

"Leave me alone," she screamed and yanked the door open.

Gambit stepped back a little, and opened his mouth to reply when his eyes caught sight of her arms. He inhaled sharply and his eyes widened in shock.

Quickly, she realized that she had forgotten about her mutilated arms, her best kept secret. And with the way he was looking at her, she could tell her secret was out.

_Damn it, _she thought.

He had waited for a little while, before deciding to go look for Rogue and apologize. He had faintly heard a door slam in the girl's wing of the mansion, so he knew she was in her room. As he climbed the stairs he could hear glass breaking and as he got closer, the sound of a heavy piece of furniture being pushed over met his ears.

_Mon Dieu, _he thought, _She really is pissed at me._

Then almost as suddenly an eerie silence filled the wing, and for a moment he was tempted to just sneak back the way he had come, just in case the silence was a precursor to a really violent explosion. But Remy LeBeau was never one to run away from a particularly dangerous situation, especially if it involved a certain Southern gal.

He placed his ear against the door and listened carefully. Only the sound of ragged breathing met his ears and he cringed, had he actually pushed her to tears?

He knocked on the door softly. "Rogue, are y' in there?"

"Go away," he heard her yell and the muffled sounds of her getting to her feet.

"C'mon Rogue, open the door. I want to talk to ya," he said, trying to keep his frustration in check.

"Ah said go away," she repeated," Ah don't want to hear anything you have to say."

"Chere…" he let his voice trail off as he heard her footsteps approach the door.

"Leave me alone," she screamed and yanked the door open, surprising him enough to make him take a few steps back.

His started to say something, but his eyes fell on her milky white arms and the lines on them. But on second glance he could see that they weren't lines exactly, they were cuts and unless he was imagining the blood that was still dripping from some of the wounds, they had been done recently.

His eyes widened of their own accord and they met her dead gray ones. A flicker of curiosity sparked through them as she turned to see what had gotten such a reaction. Suddenly her fists clenched and he realized that she hadn't wanted him or anyone else to see them, he could almost hear her cursing herself internally.

Recovering from his shock, he quickly shoved her back into her room and closed the door firmly behind him.

"Would you mind telling me exactly what you're doing?" he asked, concern etching his voice.

"Ah don't know what you're talking about," she said flippantly and pulled her sleeves back over the scars.

"Don't play stupid Rogue," he growled and grabbed her arm hard enough to make her wince. He felt bad, but he didn't loosen his grip as pushed her sleeve back up. The bleeding had picked u some from his slightly rough treatment.

"Why are you hurting yourself Rogue?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly," What's going on?

"It's none of your business Gambit," she growled and jerked her arm free," now get out of my room and leave me alone."

"No," he said and grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes," You are going to tell me why you have been hurting yourself, and you're going to tell me now."

"Ah won't, you don't have any right to ask me, not one damn one," she screamed, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"Stop it Rogue, stop hiding from me, from everybody," he finally snapped," Are you so full of anger that you can't even see that I'm worried sick about you? That I'm trying to help you? But I'm getting to the point that I'm wondering why the hell am I even trying, you obviously don't want me or anyone else helping you. You always keep us at arms length."

Tears began to run down her face as she swung a roundhouse punch at him, which he sidestepped easily.

"You damn swamp rat," she cried," Ah HAVE to keep people at arms length. Ah've already hurt so many, Ah don't want to hurt anyone anymore. This is my chance for escape, so Ah don't have to remember any more. Ah don't have to remember that Ah released Apocalypse, don't have to remember that I can never get close to anyone."

"You can get close to me chere," he growled," But why do you keep pushing me away so hard?"

"Because Ah love you," she finally screamed and sank to her knees, finally letting the sorrow take over as sobs wracked her body.

Rogue mentally wanted to kick herself. First she told him that she loved him, screamed it at him in fact, and now she was crying like a baby, right where he could see her. She hated the fact that he alone was witness to her weakness, but at the same time she was glad, maybe now he'd see how much he'd hurt her.

A light footstep reached her ear and a pair of warm, strong arms encircled her, pressing her against a warm, muscular chest.

"Sh," he whispered," It'll be alright cherie, I'm looking out for you, and I'm so, so sorry for what I said earlier."

"You should be," she wavered, any acid in her voice neutralized by the tears," Ah'm sorry, but I just can't do it anymore Remy, Ah'm tired. Ah'm so, so tired."

Remy rubbed her back gently and didn't say anything for a moment, just giving her time to pull herself together. Her sobs began to diminish, and after a bit she pulled back, cheeks pink with embarrassment, and quickly wiped her eyes.

"Ah'm sorry," she said, voice still thick with tears," Ah just… Ah don't know."

He smiled at her and planted a quick kiss on her hair. "You will be fine cherie."

"Because Ah've got people watching over me, right?" she sniffed.

"Exactly," he said and helped her to her feet," Now c'mon and let me bandage those wrists for you. And when that's done, what say we go finish decorating the tree and plan a prank for the younger students, hein?"

A smile played at the corners of her mouth and she nodded. "Sounds like a plan Cajun."

He grinned with all the giddiness of a schoolboy, red and black eyes glinting with mischief, and led her down the hall to the restrooms.

This may not be the Christmas she imagined, she thought, or the way she intended to tell the swamp rat that she loved him, or about the whole cutting bit. But all in all, she decided, she was just glad that it was all out in the open and that he didn't think any less of her. Maybe, she mused, just maybe, this Christmas wouldn't be so bad after all.


End file.
